No Boundaries

I must admit that I’m getting more and more exasperated with the Apple v Adobe war that has been raging for about a half of a year now. I’m sure that I don’t have any idea as to the direction that the Internet may be taking in the near future and I’m equally sure that no-one else does either. I think that the original scheme was that the internet would become a set of pipes which delivered expensive curated content to a few walled-gardens where those loyal to the particular hotel-keep would consume in contented oblivion while shelling out a considerable sum on a monthly basis for devices, connections, apps, emags and eshows, bumpers and all other necessary appurtenances. Beyond the walled gardens would be a virus-ridden, porn-infested, aesthetically-unappealing hell that best be left alone by any of any common sense. The internet would be third-world in character, as if crafted by the likes of Joan Didion or Somerset Maugham.

Google and it’s Android have busted this all wide open, sending Palm into the arms of HP and everybody else back to the drawing board. Long live liberation.

This would be good and nice, were it true, but it is complicated by Apple’s success in widely distributing both the iPad and the iPhone, the failure to launch, thus far, of all but a few Android devices which can hope to rival Apple’s creations, and Adobe’s failure to fully grasp the true condition that it’s condition is in.

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I much enjoy reading the September issue of Vogue Magazine.  Let’s change that.  Cross out the word “reading” and insert “looking at”.  Now at the end let’s say “for the ads and the curious layouts.”  Now to thoroughly establish masculinity, let’s add “while running at the gym, watching sports on television, and listening to loud rock music on my iPod, all at the same time.”  Much better.

My interest is both professional and based in a real enjoyment of the art direction, photography and design.  In the late 90′s and early naughts I wrote freelance pieces for small regional magazines.  The first dominoes in the ongoing, slowly-paced catastrophe that is the collapse of journalism as we know it, they have all gone by the wayside quite some time ago.   I also have done some photography, photoshop manipulation and design for very high-quality print magazines.  Hence my interest in the September Issue of Vogue.  It is the epitome of the quality glossy.  Their high-resolution photoshop work is superlative and to be emulated.

I saw the film, “The September Issue” at this year’s Sundance and it is the best of the documentaries and, perhaps, of all of the films that I saw.  I went with an eager anticipation because I wanted to see if the film would accurately reflect the artistic and technical aspects, and controlled chaos of the production of a good magazine, or if it would merely be a celebrity biopic allowing us to bask in the perpetual sunshine and otherwise of Anna Wintour, the subject of the film.  As a sort of “Devil Wears Prada” gone real, I loved it because it accomplished both.

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Three Splendid Nights in America's City that Shimmers (at 1:00 am).

I settled in, back in Park City, ready and eager to spend several months in one spot. Then the request came to spend three days in Phoenix.

When asked, I just couldn’t say no. I’m a regular enthusiast of almost all things Arizona. Phoenix and July are two exceptions. So the thought of the two together sent shivers up and down my spine. Although, having spent some time in Chicago this past winter, with last January being the coldest month in their history, I was curious to experience Phoenix under the most extreme conditions imaginable: the end of July.

I packed lightly.  I saw under-preparedness in the clothing department, given the circumstances, as perhaps impossible. The one mandatory item was a swimsuit.  Also I planned on visiting a few ad agencies and graphic design firms while there, so a short-sleeved shirt and pair of pants were warranted.

It wasn’t so much the heat that I wished to experience but the combination of extreme heat in a functioning very large, very vibrant city that I sought.  I’ve developed a curiosity in seeing how those under extraordinary conditions go about everyday lives.  I’m used to hot and dry conditions as Salt Lake City spends a few days, or maybe a week, above 100, with the occasional single day in the neighborhood of 105, every summer.  How much hotter could 115 possibly be?  Also the accommodations were to be fantastic: The Buttes, a spa-containing resort situated on a knoll between Tempe and Phoenix.  No kids would be present.  Enough of them for a while.  And I’d have a chance to visit a few ad and design firms in warm climes which would complement Park City come November quite nicely. Continue reading

Mad Travels in the Land of Infinite Corn

Consider the American middle-west.  Fields of corn and soy, old barns, horses and dairy cattle, cheese, smokestacks, heavy industry, organized labor. It is largely a place where those who stayed have remained. I think of it as a backbone of sorts.  I am a product of this sense of place.  Most people from here tend toward the negative.  As do I. And by this I don’t mean to say they are negative.  I mean that, given almost any subject, their first thoughts are along the lines of what can go wrong rather than what can go right. They aren’t the sort of folks to bet the farm.

I’ve recently returned from a somewhat bizarre trip through the heart of the heartland.  This involved visits with relatives in Chicago, inlaws in Ohio and Kentucky; and trips back and forth to the University of Indiana where my daughter Kate was enrolled in a fancy program for highschool divers. Indiana is, for reasons I do not understand, the undisputed mecca for those who leap into the water. The itinerary ran something like this: Chicago and Evanston Illinois, Lexington Kentucky, Dayton and Bellbrook Ohio, Bloomington Indiana, Bellbrook, Bloomington, Bellbook, Bloomington, Indianapolis, Chicago and home.  The why of it is a long story. Needless to say, I’ve seen a considerable quantity of corn.

I think many of us, who left the Midwest in our distant past, have a feeling of rootedness in — and attribute a permanence to — that part of the country which is perhaps no longer appropriate. We think:  If California and New York collapse under the cumulative weight of vanity and extravagance and if the many who’ve moved to lifestyle destinations only to find lifestyle and no viable destination are sent packing, then the practicality of the Midwesterner will endure.  Those of us who’ve moved out, on a subconscious level, rely upon the sensibility of those who’ve stayed behind. Continue reading